


Red Mage Surprise

by klepto_maniac0



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Gen, Older Characters, Stripper, it is finely crafted, savor the awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klepto_maniac0/pseuds/klepto_maniac0
Summary: Quistis sits through the most awkward bachelorette party ever, and she's not even the one getting married.





	Red Mage Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ardwynna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardwynna/gifts).



Being the only soberish one at a bachelorette party was annoying, but in Quistis’s mind it was better than being ready to hurt someone. Rinoa was so darn friendly that she made friends with everybody, which was good on paper but meant that she wanted to celebrate her last night of singleness with people who otherwise _hated_ each other in every other aspect of life. Everyone got along to Rinoa’s face, but the hackles went up as soon as she turned her back to socialize with another cluster of unlike peoples. As one of the maids of honor, Quistis ran around all evening putting out fires before they could turn into all-out blazes. Selphie was doing the same thing, but cheating heavily by making sure everyone was drunk and truthfully, Quistis was not sure that was helping. Some very reasonable people were becoming shitfaced and belligerent. Some very calm people looked on the verge of bursting into tears. Quistis caught sight of Rinoa’s face as they crisscrossed the hotel suite from one group of people to another and caught palpable distress on her friend’s face, which was absolutely not how a bride-to-be should look in Quistis’s opinion.

 

 _“Maybe I should kick everyone out,”_ thought Quistis, eyeing the fifteen-odd girls from Timber rebellions, Deling high society, and various levels of training in the Garden as the tension in the room grew higher and higher. She certainly wouldn’t mind getting rid of everyone at this point. They’d all had a lovely dinner earlier and actually a couple of nice chats, but one of the guests, Rinoa’s cousin on Caraway’s side, had insisted on everyone coming upstairs to her suite because she had a surprise planned. Since she seemed to be Selphie’s black-haired twin in spirit, Quistis fully expected explosions, but an hour had gone by with nothing happening. That was no doubt some of the problem; the ladies were getting restless.

 

“Do you have any idea what this surprise might be?” Quistis asked Selphie as the shorter girl zipped over to her bag and yanked out two more bottles of champagne. Just how many did she have?

 

“Nope, but Kitty says it’ll be fun—“

 

“I still can’t believe we’ve been letting someone named _Kitty_ coordinate a surprise for Rinoa.”

 

Selphie gave Quistis a flat look. “Hey, with all the other stuff we’ve been doing for the wedding, it’s a _favor._ Be grateful.”

 

Quistis sighed. “I know. I know. It’s just…” She gestured somewhat helplessly at the gathering of women, saying, “I haven’t felt this out of my depth in a while.”

 

There was a whoop and Quistis and Selphie both turned to see Kitty Caraway, Rinoa’s closest cousin in age, sway drunkenly to her feet and hold up her phone like it was some kind of trophy. She was the epitome of the vacuous high-society debutante, and if not for her pink sequined minidress, curly bob, and fashionably skinny limbs, might have passed for Rinoa in bad lighting. She certainly had Rinoa’s sense of adventure.

 

“Good news, ladies!” Kitty crowed, temporarily halting the storm brewing among the different friends groups. Somehow managing to skip to the suite door in five-inch heels and wobbling more than a bridge in a high wind, Kitty sang, “The strippers are here!”

 

“KITTY!” Rinoa screeched, her face nearly purpling with shock and fury, but almost nobody heard her horror in the general shout of glee that came up from everybody else. Selphie’s hands flew immediately to her mouth, her eyes going so wide that Quistis could see the whites all around.

 

“What is happening?” Quistis demanded of her horrorstruck friend. “Why are there strippers coming here?”

 

“I thought it was a joke!” Selphie squeaked out.

 

Quistis stared. “You signed off on this?!”

 

“No! Well, sort of.” Selphie winced and said, “In Trabia, the night before you get married, there’s this tradition of dressing up the groom in a silly costume and sneaking him in for some wink-wink, nudge-nudge before the ceremony—“

 

“Selphie!”

 

“And that’s what I thought the surprise was when Kitty asked to do it, that we’d get to see Squall wearing something _really_ silly!” Selphie started shaking her head so fast that her hair flew in brown clouds around her face. “But Kitty must’ve meant the old _Galbadian_ thing instead!”

 

“Which is…?”

 

“Okay, so marriages used to be arranged, right? For the Galbadian elite, they figured your last night of singleness was your last chance to be with the person you actually loved, so they started sneaking in people no matter how inappropriate—“

 

“And somehow this turned into _strippers?”_

 

Selphie’s semi-panicked whine was the only affirmative Quistis needed. Now she seriously considered running out of the fire escape and taking both Selphie and Rinoa with her since Rinoa seemed just as horrified, but then Kitty opened the suite door and the strippers came in. Even as panicked as she was, Quistis couldn’t help but notice that the three men who came in were probably the handsomest she’d ever seen in real life. Even the fact they were all dressed oddly didn’t take away from the fact that their clothes neatly fit and skimmed bodies that were not only perfectly maintained, but perfectly proportioned; broad shoulders, trim waists leading to long legs, and well-muscled arms with attractively strong hands. All of the men wore wide-brimmed hats that partly covered their faces, but they weren’t the sort that Quistis was familiar with. There was something odd about the hats and the outfits in general, something that Quistis thought she should recognize but didn’t quite understand because of her confusion. A confusion which amplified when hands clapped onto her shoulders and Quistis found herself forced into a chair by two of Kitty’s grinning cohorts. More girls grabbed Selphie and Rinoa and made them sit down too, the three of them approximately facing the strippers as Kitty shut and locked the door behind them. It might have been Quistis’s imagination but there seemed to be a malicious glitter in Kitty’s eyes.

 

“My best cousin deserves the best send-off!” Sang Kitty, eliciting another round of cheers. “I wanted to make sure your last night as a free woman was _truly_ magical, so—“

 

 _“Oh my god,”_ thought Quistis with a groan as she recognized the strippers’ costumes. Black mage. White mage. Red mage. All the strippers were wearing _way_ over-(under?) stylized versions of the common wizard costumes that everybody on the planet grew up seeing some variant of. The Red Mage in particular was quite obvious once Quistis recognized the plumed hat, the long fitted coat that went down to the knees, and the striking color scheme of red, white, and black, though no wizard of yore would leave quite so much chest exposed. It was practically screaming _“hit me! Hit me right here!”_

 

Even though the Red Mage did have a very, very nice chest indeed. With the critical eye of someone who evaluated men based on how easy or likely they were to kill, Quistis thought the Red Mage looked the type who wasn’t fit just for aesthetic’s sake; there was kind of an overall muscularity to him that was absent in the more exaggerated silhouettes of the other two strippers, a kind of leanness to his chest and a solidity to his core that raised his attractiveness in the non-panicking part of Quistis’s brain by several notches. He had nice long legs too, again sleek in contrast to the other men he was with but still shapely and powerful if the way his leather-look pants fitted him were telling the truth. She very studiously did _not_ look at his crotch; she was still considering throwing open a window and running away.

 

Quistis nearly jumped out of her skin when music started playing from somewhere, loud and so full of bass that she could feel it vibrating her bones. Immediately the men started dancing, or rather more accurately, gyrating. Up until then, Quistis hadn’t known that men could move their hips like that, in circles and back and forth, and swiveling in ways that seemed patently lewd, especially considering how they ran their hands over their bodies, smirked under the still-lowered brims of their costume hats, and of course, toyed with their clothes to make the women squeal with delight at every glimpse of exposed flesh. It was all so blatantly sexual that Quistis felt the urge to flee rising lest her face explode into literal flames, but the two debs still holding her shoulders down might as well have been iron weights. When Quistis glanced at them, she saw them practically drooling with delight at the dancing men.

 

 _“Is this the first time they’ve ever seen men like this? Or are they so used to it that this is actually fun?”_ Quistis wondered, dumbstruck at their fascination. How could anyone be comfortable in this setting? She glanced over at Selphie and Rinoa, only slightly reassured by their reactions. Rinoa had her hands clapped over her nose and mouth, face red and eyes so wide that they looked like they were going to fall out, and Selphie was making a weird semi-hysterical giggle that increased in volume as the men started to come closer. It was then that Quistis realized that there were three strippers for a reason: one for the bride, and one each for the maids of honor. Of which she was one.

 

“Oh no,” Quistis gasped, pushing back into her seat as one of the strippers, the Red Mage, pointed at her with a smirk and approached. If she had been in physical danger, the response would have been immediate and precise; she would have bolted out of her chair, grabbed the nearest throwable object, and hurled it at the approaching threat in leather pants. But this was not a danger situation, and the training drilled into her very soul from childhood until now was very clear that if she wasn’t about to die and she wasn’t on a mission, then she was absolutely not to strike out. The consequences were too dire. Between Quistis’s training and her blue magic, it would take at most three seconds to kill someone, and murder was generally frowned on at social functions like bachelorette parties. If nothing else, there were too many witnesses.

 

“Lighten up, girlie!” Giggled Devil #1 on her right, still pushing her into her chair.

 

“Yeah, this is going to be fun,” giggled Devil #2 on her left as the Red Mage came close enough that Quistis could feel his warmth against her knees, and she suddenly felt horribly vulnerable in her pretty soft little civilian dress. It was a pretty gray jersey sheath with beading on the shoulders and it was very, very comfortable (it even had pockets!), but now Quistis wanted her tough battle dress and her gauntlets, her high boots and her thick belts. Even the structure of the SeeD uniform would make her feel marginally more protected in front of the embodiment of raw sensuality that was standing practically on top of her, still smirking down at her in a way that would have infuriated her once upon a time. Actually, the longer she looked up at the smirking stripper, the more Quistis _did_ feel annoyed. She was clearly uncomfortable! Why was he in her space? Why was she letting this happen to herself? Why was she sitting here as this admittedly attractive man danced right in front of her, short-circuiting her thought processes with every tilt and thrust of his hips, slowly filling her brain with all the possible derivations of _“this is not the way I want a dick in my face”._

 

 _“I should just get up and leave,”_ thought Quistis, a little spark of rebellion kindling in her stomach, burning away the paralyzing awkwardness. Even as the stripper took hold of his hat and slowly pulled it off his head, still hiding his face, Quistis thought, _“I should let someone else sit here. Plenty of the other girls would like to be the focus of this guy’s attention. That does it! I’m going to…”_

 

To

 

To

 

To…

 

To sit there, in silent abject horror that was tens of degrees more intense than anything she’d ever felt in her life before, because when Quistis looked up to face her enemy and quite firmly say ‘no thank you’, she found herself staring up at someone she recognized. Oh he was a little older, his hair was just a little different, and the scar between his eyes had faded to almost nothing, but that was still unmistakably Seifer Almasy in a Red Mage stripper outfit looking down at her, and still smirking, _the prick._

 

“Hey there,” he said, grinning hugely. It was not a seductive look. It was the kind of massive shit-eating grin that still made Quistis grind her teeth whenever she remembered it, even though it had been years since she’d had to face that expression across a classroom or a battlefield. The utter incongruity of _that look_ and _this setting_ nearly made Quistis feel like she was going to pass out from the cognitive dissonance thunderstorming in her head. At the same time, Seifer looked so comfortable and relaxed that Quistis wondered if he recognized her. She looked a little different herself, after all; her hair was curled and loose, she was wearing makeup, and she wasn’t trying to kill him or glare him to death with similar kinds of intensely disapproving looks. Was it possible that maybe he didn’t know who he was about to take his clothes off in front of?

 

Quistis nearly said something, but instead she screamed reflexively as the devils on her left and right squealed with glee. Seifer had to duck his head partly against his scarlet hat to keep from laughing and that torpedoed Quistis’s suspicion that he didn’t know who she was. He recognized her just as much as she recognized him, but instead of being properly mortified at being seen like this, he was _reveling_ in it. And she should have been angry, she knew what she should be feeling, but instead all logical responses again stalled out as Seifer slowly drew his hat down the center line of his body, down that deep impractical neckline that showcased his really nice chest, down past his lean stomach, and finally pausing over his hips, where Quistis was now even more afraid to look and yet could not stop herself from staring at. It was the hat, she told herself; she was just following where the hat went. She was briefly distracted by the chunky silver rings that were seemingly part of Seifer’s costume, studding his every other finger, and thus taken wholly by surprise when the music sent a floor-shaking blast of bass through her entire body. At the same moment, Seifer let go of the peaked crown and then popped his hips up so hard and so quick that the hat actually flew into the air. _And landed on top of her head._

 

There was a round of delighted screaming from everybody else, but it all came to Quistis as muffled noise, as though through a great distance and a thick veil; she had never been so shocked before, but not immediately in danger. It was like the hat on her head, surprisingly heavy and still vaguely warm from Seifer’s head, had completely blocked out the rest of the universe, blurring out everything except for the reality of Seifer now starting to take his clothes off in front of her. He started with the elbow-length gloves of black leather that he pulled off with his teeth one at a time and then tossed them around her neck, where each of the devil-girls immediately claimed one with a cheer. He started dancing again with those incredibly distracting swivels of his limber hips, but this time teased apart the toggles on his coat, giving enough time for the watching ladies to scream in growing anticipation as more and more of them came loose. Quistis slowly came back to the present as the sight of a barely visible scar glancing across a fresh glimpse of Seifer’s sculpted stomach, her mind automatically cataloguing it as _“Scar. Naturally healed. Several years old. Superficial. Cause: light impact from a single-bladed weapon.”_

 

 _“Scar,”_ Quistis thought again, seeing a little glitter of scattered scars flecking his side, right over where his liver would be, as Seifer eased his coat off his shoulders with a slow, practiced shrug that made the watching women start jumping with excitement. _“Magically healed. Several years old. Deep. Cause: gunshot wound from single-barrel weapon, most likely a shotgun.”_

 

 _“Scar,”_ thought Quistis again as Seifer turned, showing her his bare back and the patchwork of fine white dots and lines that only a trained eye could pick out. His impressive musculature was an afterthought, the forward shock of his presence blunted by her analysis. Quistis’s awareness of the world started expanding as her breathing calmed down. “ _Magically healed. Several years old. Superficial. Cause: piercing impact from a three-pointed weapon. Judging from the spread of the scars, the wound was inflicted a Strange Vision model nunchaku. Strange. I had no idea Selphie had ever hit him in the back.”_

 

She was peripherally aware of Seifer looking at her over his shoulder, some kind of considering look in his eye as he ran his hands up his thighs and over his buttocks. The motion made the other women scream, but Quistis kept staring at the litany of abuses on his skin: how many of them were from her and her friends? Were any more recent than that? Quistis sensed rather than saw that Seifer seemed annoyed, and that was all the warning she got before Seifer turned around and sat in her lap, straddling her waist and pinning her even more into the chair than the two devil-girls still holding her shoulders. He rested his arms casually around her shoulders, as comfortable and expectant as a cat who suddenly decided that now was the proper time for attention.

 

At once, Quistis’s calm shattered with so much Seifer suddenly in her face, less than six inches away, and he smirked at her again. He was _heavy._ Not anything she couldn’t handle, but he was heavy enough to shock the breath out of her and make her instantly aware that whatever his reasons, Seifer was still as fit as the last time she’d seen him. Looking at him for any length of time made Quistis hyperaware of the tight muscles cabling his arms, the graceful yet powerful curves that traced his chest and stomach, and the defined lines that led suggestively past the waistband of his low-slung pants. Her mouth went dry. Her palms began to sweat. But instead of her blood running cold, it started beating hard in her chest, rising to the surface of her skin not to blush, but to be more aware of someone she’d always secretly thought was handsome. She’d always thought his eyes were blue like hers before, but this close she could see green, a little gold, and and just a hint of brown that made his intense gaze even more compelling. He smelled like some kind of cologne that was probably cheap, but combined with the scent of his discarded leather coat and what had to be his own scent, it was far from unpleasant. Nevertheless she couldn’t help but pull back when he leaned closer, his smirk broadening as he crowded her space even more.

 

“Now that’s more like it,” he said, and there was a hot flare of temper in Quistis’s chest as she realized he was _still_ enjoying her discomfort. Ten different things she wanted to say to him immediately crowded for space, but sudden doubt made her freeze instead: as far as she knew, Rinoa and Selphie hadn’t cottoned on to the fact he was here. She glanced at them, trying to gauge their reactions and instead saw she had been _deserted_.

 

At some point Rinoa had managed to get away from her Black Mage stripper and swap out with Kitty, who was making enough noise and being enthusiastic enough for three women. Handsy enough too, with a manic glitter in her eyes that was frankly alarming as she didn’t wait for the stripper to take off any of his costume pieces; she pried open belts and zippers and tossed items to the floor like she was trying to peel a particularly stubborn orange. Meanwhile Selphie had apparently dematerialized, and the White Mage stripper who had been up in her face was doing a more general show for the cluster of ladies on that side of the room, having a grand old time letting the ladies spank and fondle his ass in between beats of the still-playing song.

 

The utter depth of the betrayal and witnessing the debauchery would have made Quistis furious except Seifer had once again noticed she wasn’t paying attention to him and rocked his hips up her thighs, making cool air rush over her knees and higher as the motion pulled her skirt up. Quistis gasped aloud when she felt the press of his erection against her stomach, the sensation of it triggering a flood of answering warmth in her hips she was instantly embarrassed by. Something of it must have shown in her face because Seifer’s confident smirk turned sly and he rocked against her again, twice, three more times with each thudding beat of the music, his arms tightening subtly around her like they were doing something much more intimate. Despite everything, Quistis’s breath came shorter. Her skin burned with awareness and yearning for something more substantial than the rubbing of her own clothes against her skin. It was like part of her had realized that the people whose opinions she cared about were no longer around, so if she wanted to be something other than horrified, nobody would be around to judge her…

 

Seifer slid out of her lap, almost down to the floor, and the sudden lack of his weight and heat seemed to finally let air back into Quistis’s lungs. Holding her gaze with his own, Seifer set his hands on her knees and squeezed lightly; was he asking for permission or giving her a warning this time? Whatever the reason, Quistis clamped her knees tightly together, hyperaware of the small audience she and Seifer had. While he might be perfectly happy being an exhibitionist, _she_ mostly definitely was not. Undeterred by her resistance, Seifer put his hands on her hips instead and slowly rose from the floor, dragging his nose and lips along her pressed thighs as he looked up at her with veiled and very green eyes. Oh _dear._ Quistis held back a shiver at the utter indecency of a former student, a former _enemy_ , being so bold with her in public, but there was something intoxicating about the entire event she couldn’t quite deny. Something about the long line of Seifer’s arched back, the graceful narrowing of his waist and the exposed crescent of his pale lower back, the way he was kneeling in front of her and barely touching her, made Quistis shift with unspoken desires. But they weren’t strong enough to let anyone know about, so she stayed rock still as Seifer rose up from the floor, practically skimming her stomach and breasts with his face before he was once again at eye level.

 

“You like playing hard-to-get, don’t you?” He chuckled.

 

Quistis scowled. Hearing his voice was enough to ground her in the moment. “I don’t play.”

 

“Good,” he said with a grin that immediately flooded her with apprehension. “Neither do I.”

 

Seifer finished up his slow rise and stepped back, giving Quistis both room to breathe and fully see what he was doing. If she’d thought his movements were limber and lewd before, she rapidly realized that Seifer had just been warming up. The swagger and ego that made up the majority of Quistis’s impression of him had become ritualized and weaponized, making Quistis turn bright red all over again as she witnessed every single movement a man could use to say _“look at me”_ without words. Loosening and taking off his long wraparound belt became a showy ritual of gyration and such excruciatingly slow movement that it wasn’t long before the women clustered around him were shouting for him to take it off, and after a good thirty seconds of tease, Seifer obliged them… By whipping it off, cracking it against the floor loud to make everyone yelp, and then tossing it into the crowd of ladies, who immediately started fighting over it. In her semi-stunned state, all Quistis could think was that he’d gotten a respectable snap out of what was probably a cheap costume piece.

 

And then she was all the way stunned when Seifer started undoing his pants, which didn’t have a zipper but rather a line of buttons that went down the front and made the women watching start cheering with each undone fastening. Quistis’s dread returned with alarming force, but crashed against her growing arousal as Seifer unfastened three buttons, making his pants ride lower and lower with no indication he was wearing anything underneath. Quistis unconsciously backed into her chair again, half-afraid and half-giddy about what she was going to see.

 

Seifer paused, deliberately licking his lips and planting his stance just a little wider, stopping the downward slide his pants before they revealed anything shocking. Then, making full eye contact with her, Seifer set one hand on the waist of his pants and pulled very slowly down, making Quistis gulp as she saw nothing but smooth skin that was unscarred by battle and so pale that it likely had never seen the light of day. It was all lean, toned, and leading down to what she had felt pressing so insistently against her before. Quistis’s vision seemed like it was fading out with the force of her unwilling interest, her eyes glued to Seifer’s other hand as he dragged it over his chest, down his stomach, and then down over his pants. The women who were watching the show screamed when he gripped his cock hard enough for them to see, the length of it gleaming underneath his black leather pants. But while they shrieked for him, Seifer only had eyes for Quistis. And for one very powerful, very convincing second, she thought he was trying to tell her something.

 

_“Is he that hard because of me?”_

 

The thought made her reevaluate their entire interaction. Seifer had come straight for her. He had made sure that she had known exactly who he was. And he had focused all of his attention on her—she who was frozen-solid, nearly terrified, and practically unresponsive—while he was surrounded by jumping, cheering, whooping women who would happily have licked every inch of his body. The thought that he might be looking at her and her alone was strangely, powerfully flattering, making another rush of damned heat steal her breath and erode her common sense. Unconsciously Quistis bit her lip.

 

And that was when she realized that Seifer was still toying with her, because he immediately grinned, grabbed the sides of his pants, and _ripped them off_ in a crackle of hidden snaps coming undone. As the women around her screamed in joy, Quistis screamed in shock instead and clapped her hands over her face. It was pure instinct. She knew what naked men looked like. She was _not_ prepared to know what a naked Seifer looked like and definitely not in this situation. Her hot, secret rise of arousal vanished like flash paper, replaced by a literal burning awkwardness that made Quistis wish she could teleport away like Selphie and Rinoa apparently had. Oh, they’d _really_ left her! Why? Why? With the two of them at her side, undoubtedly far more uncomfortable, she could have mustered enough bluster to fend Seifer off, but all alone and clearly out of her depth, she had no idea what to do.

 

Two small but strong little hands grabbed each of her wrists and pulled them down, making Quistis shriek in fresh horror as the nearly forgotten devil-debutantes forced her to once again witness the most awkward sight of her life. Somehow it was worse than Seifer being naked. He was wearing very small red shorts that he’d probably pulled down to give the impression of nudity, but the large white tassel of fringe attached right over his dick made them anything but modest. With a creeping shot of horrified recognition, Quistis realized it was the same white-and-red color scheme as the hat that was still sitting on her head. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, Seifer laced his hands behind his head and began pelvic thrusting in time with the music. The tassel flew up on every beat, wagging like the biggest, obscene tongue Quistis had ever seen, and Quistis felt that she was about to die of secondhand embarrassment as Seifer finally started paying attention to the other women on his side of the room, grinning at them and tickling their grasping hands and eager faces with his flying dick tassel as they squealed with glee and begged for more.

 

 _“How did he come to this?”_ Quistis couldn’t help but wonder in mixed horror and fascination. Her last clear memory of Seifer was him spitting defiance at her and the rest of their group, burning with determination and hurt as Fujin and Raijin walked away. What had happened in the four years since to turn him into _this?_ What had happened to his overwhelming pride? His self-respect?

 

 _“Ultimecia happened,”_ Quistis realized as one of the women raked her nails down Seifer’s side, leaving claw marks that turned red against his fair skin almost immediately. “ _She took them from him.”_

 

“Suck his dick!”

 

“WHAT?!” Quistis screeched, thinking for one terrified second that someone was talking to her. But the whoop had come from the other side of the room, and when Quistis turned to see who had made the noise, she instead saw with great surging horror that the shout hadn’t been so much of a command as it had been a statement. Specifically in reference to Kitty, who was either the sluttiest drunk Quistis had ever seen or just the most uninhibited young thing ever, because that was exactly what she was doing to the Black Mage stripper. The only thing remaining of his costume were small black ankle boots, with something that looked like a pointed hat just the right size for a dick lying on the floor at his feet. The White Mage stripper was not in better straits. On his side of the room, all Quistis could see was his feet because there was a woman sitting on his face, another on his crotch, and the distinctive motions of what he was doing with both of them were obscured by everyone else standing around and cheering them on. The scattered amounts of money around the room did not make Quistis feel any better about the situation.

 

“Come here, honey, let’s see you for real!” Someone said off behind Quistis’s head and to the left, and she immediately whipped around to see one of the drunkest guests—a normally tough Timber girl whose hobby was explosives—snag a half fistful of Seifer’s tassel. He winced and disengaged her hand, somehow managing not to make it look like he was throwing her off, but that was enough for Quistis. With a bolt of speed that completely threw off her debutante jailers, Quistis lunged across the room, grabbed Seifer by the wrist, and ran off to one of the other rooms in the suite. Her skin was prickling with adrenaline and singleminded focus, finally free of indecision in the face of someone weaker needing protection. Seifer stumbled behind her but didn’t resist when Quistis all but threw him into the room (an office, ironically pristine considering what was going on in the main room), shut the doors, and locked them with such violence that she nearly broke the handles off. And then for good measure, Quistis grabbed the nearby office chair and barricaded the double doors too.

 

A choking noise from behind her made Quistis turn, afraid Seifer had gotten seriously hurt from the dick grab. To her outrage, he was doubled over with laughter, his very small clothes and the particular angle unfortunately making it look like he was completely naked.

 

“You’re welcome!” Quistis snapped at him, which just sent Seifer into more laughter. Quistis huffed and crossed her arms tightly across her chest, glaring until Seifer managed to catch his breath.

 

“Oh god, I knew it’d be worth winding you up,” Seifer gasped, wiping tears from his eyes and straightening up. “But this is even better than the faces you were making. Just so you know, that’s mild out there.”

 

“What!”

 

“Seriously. Kitty Caraway wants to be a porn star, she just can’t let herself be filmed.” Seifer wiped his eyes and laughed again, saying, “Poor Rinoa. This is _not_ the bachelorette party she wanted, I bet.”

 

Quistis’s jaw dropped. “You mean… You _knew_ this was for Rinoa too?!”

 

“Only once I got in the room.” He smirked and said, “I was thinking about messing with her first, but then I saw _you_ and you seemed like a much better time. Seriously, why didn’t you run away when Rinoa and Messenger Girl did?”

 

“You didn’t leave me an avenue of escape!”

 

“Oh please! Selphie popped over the back of her chair like a monkey and knocked a few people over when she did it. And Rinoa threw her arms up and slithered down like a kid getting out from under a restaurant table. If you wanted to get away, you would have.”

 

Quistis swelled with fury and a shift of weight on top of her head made her realize she was still wearing Seifer’s damned hat! She yanked it off and hurled it at him, but it fell short and off to the side, catching the air in stupid ways. Seifer laughed as he scooped it off the floor and put it back on his head, the wide brim hanging just low enough to turn his already smug expression into pure insolence.

 

“You _asshole!”_ Quistis shrilled.

 

“You prude,” he retorted, making Quistis look around for something else to throw. To her left was an empty wire trashcan that came up to just under her knee. Immediately she grabbed it and threw it at Seifer, which made him duck as it banged off the wall at approximately his head level. And he _still_ laughed. “This is the thanks I get for making sure you have a good time?”

 

“I was _petrified!”_

 

“You were turned on, you liar.”

 

Quistis blushed furiously. “So were you!”

 

“It’s called a cock ring,” said Seifer, making Quistis sputter. “The harder the dick, the higher the tips. Oh, I’m sorry—did you think you were that hot?”

 

For some reason, that stung. Frustrated, Quistis reached down and pulled off her shoes, high-heeled stiletto affairs that were covered in jewels that matched the ones on her shoulder straps. Seifer’s eyes widened—he probably thought she was going to try perforating him with them—but instead Quistis hurled them into a corner of the room and charged at him with a shout of fury. And maybe just a tad humiliation. How _dare_ he not recognize even a hint of why this was so damn awkward—they’d seen each other grown up, for goodness sakes! Shouldn’t he be even just a little ashamed of acting so lewdly around someone who was basically a sister?

 

 _“Shouldn’t you be_ very _ashamed of finding him attractive too, then?”_

 

That was _not_ the point! She could not help her reactions, but Seifer’d had every choice NOT to behave like he did, so therefore _it was time to slap some sense into him._

 

Most people, when faced with a furious mercenary, would run away. Seifer instead stepped into her charge and intercepted her lunge for his neck, knocking her fists apart and hooking his leg around hers at the same time. It was such a basic maneuver that Quistis automatically reacted, stepping even closer so when Seifer tried to knock her leg out from under her, she was already braced with a hand on his shoulder and a fist going for his stomach. He reacted automatically too, tightening his toned stomach so hard that his abs bunched like coiled snakes, and as Quistis hit something like warm iron, he wrapped his arms around her and threw her to the floor. But it was a clumsy throw, more of a collapse, and even as she was falling Quistis was already striking back, specifically by yanking her knee up to hit Seifer in his temple.

 

He yelped. And despite the automatic responses, despite their history, despite the fact that she hadn’t really been trying to kill him, Quistis froze. Seifer Almasy did not yelp in pain. He grunted, he cursed, he swore, but he didn’t make any noise showing that he had actually been hurt. Abruptly Quistis realized that she’d been using full force against someone who had likely been out of combat for at least three years. Then her back and head hit the floor, and the last of her aggression puffed away in the wind as impact more than pain flooded her the back of her skull. But it still hurt enough to make Quistis clutch her head, and she was peripherally aware Seifer was leaning back on his heels and doing the same thing. The room was silent except for the noise of the party still raging outside.

 

“You done?” Seifer asked, eyeing her warily. Quistis nodded and he stepped back. She blinked when he held his hand out, but took it anyway and let him pull her to her feet.

 

“Sorry,” she said, looking away. “I don’t know what came over me. Usually I have better control than that.”

 

“I know.” Seifer paused and looked her up and down. Quistis glanced down at herself and blushed as she saw that their scuffle hadpulled her clothing slightly out of order, though it was nothing a few quick adjustments couldn’t fix. As she neatened her appearance, Seifer said, “For what it’s worth, you look good enough that I _almost_ didn’t recognize you. If you were wearing a tighter dress, I’d think you were a normal woman.”

 

“Oh, you mean the kind that goes down on you on a whim?”

 

“If I’m lucky,” he said with a smile. Quistis was not at all impressed by the roundabout compliment and let him know with a flat look.

 

“Does that happen often?” Quistis asked instead, gesturing out at the room they’d just left.

 

“What? The orgy?” He laughed. “Kinda-sorta. One of the perks of the job.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because obviously I’m doing my job right,” said Seifer with a leer, running his hand down his chest again. This time Quistis was not affected. She instead folded her arms and glared.

 

“But why this job?”

 

Seifer rolled his eyes, all good humor gone at once. “I’m going to stop you right there; nothing I say is going to convince you that I’m not ruining myself, because you’ve already made up your mind. So do me a favor and get out of my way so I can continue to make a living, alright?”

 

Quistis shook her head. “You’re not even going to try and persuade me?”

 

“No. You have no idea how many times I have this conversation _a week._ I know everything you’re about to say and I got about ten canned responses to ‘em. And don’t bother testing me on that, because this ain’t your classroom anymore.”

 

“You’re awfully defensive, you know.”

 

“Yeah, it’s almost like I’m a grown man who makes my own decisions, but nobody in my entire life ever respects that unless I tell them up-front it’s not a discussion.”

 

“What do Fujin and Raijin think about this?” Quistis tossed out, which made Seifer roll his eyes again.

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in years.”

 

“And that doesn’t tell you something is wrong?”

 

“You know they’re their own people, right?” He gestured in the air like he was talking to someone particularly stupid. “Separate entities? And that friends grow apart sometimes when they get older and their interests change? Last time I saw Fujin, she was moving to Fisherman’s Horizon to work on robots and Raijin was sailing off to Centra to catalogue bugs with some professor.”

 

“I always thought those two were your moral compass.”

 

“Oh how fucking lucky for them, taking care of someone else their entire life,” Seifer retorted, making Quistis frown. “How sad for me, that I don’t have a goddamn conscience or a heart without them around. No wonder I fell into sin and depravity, right? And while you’re at it, how _tragic_ that I’m an orphan who didn’t grow up with good role models about normal human behavior.”

 

Quistis glared, knowing exactly why he had picked that particular line. “At least SeeD doesn’t have to sell its dignity to get the bills paid.”

 

“No, you just have to kill people because other people told you to, no matter how you feel about it.”

 

“That’s not what we do anymore. We’ve been branching out into research—”

 

“Funded by blood money, and still researching ways to kill people unless sorceresses only count as people as long as we like them,” said Seifer, unimpressed.

 

“As long as they behave themselves.”

 

“As long as no one knows they’re there,” said Seifer, his lips quirking sardonically. “Rinoa ain’t exactly public with what she can do, is she?”

 

“That’s a different case. It’s not a secret, but it’s not anyone’s business either.”

 

“Gyshal, gysahl.”

 

“Shut up.” Quistis shifted her weight, suppressing the urge to pace. She’d forgotten how irritating Seifer could be: not merely his personality, but the way he had about picking people apart with nothing but truths until they were as vulnerable as he wanted them. In any case, it was clear that she wasn’t going to get him to magically change to another line of work, and the more she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why she wanted him to. It wasn’t like she’d thought about him very much since the last time she’d seen him, except maybe in a vague hope that he was keeping out of trouble and doing well. To have her illusions so abruptly shattered was probably why she felt so disturbed about the entire thing, because it wasn’t like there was inherently wrong with selling services people wanted: if she honestly felt that way, she would have left SeeD a long time ago.

 

“This just doesn’t match what I remember,” she said haltingly, looking away. “I can’t imagine that the person you used to be back then would be fine with all this… Attention.”

 

“Definitely not, but when I was a teen I couldn’t imagine that anyone actually wanting me, so I would have thought it was a dirty trick.”

 

Quistis blinked, taken aback by the frank admission. “But a lot of people liked you around the Garden, Seifer.”

 

“I had a lot of people thinking I was someone I wasn’t,” he said, making Quistis’s mouth twist in understanding. “People who got disappointed and upset if I didn’t live up to their expectations. So I tried, but the stress of trying to be that person… Well, it sucked enough that I jumped at the one person who seemed to like me just the way I was.”

 

“Funny…” Quistis said slowly, reevaluating her memories of Seifer. As disciplinary actions, unofficial scoldings, and Seifer’s seemingly everpresent look of resentment flashed over her mindm she said, “I always thought you did exactly what you wanted.”

 

“Being the way I was back then, acting out like that…” He smiled humorlessly. “At least people were noticing me. At least they remembered who I was when their backs were turned.”

 

“So… This new job is about being noticed, then?”

 

He looked unamused, but also just relaxed enough to say, “I’m in my own head. I do what I want because _I_ want to do it. And nobody gets hurt when I get paid. There are way worse ways to live life.”

 

Quistis could only nod. She sighed and said, “Well… I suppose I should let you out then. There’s no point in me stopping you from making money, right?”

 

“Not unless you gave me more,” said Seifer with a mocking little nod. But then he added, “Nah, I need to make sure the other guys are alright. I’m the minder.”

 

That initially took Quistis aback, but when she thought about it for more than a second, of course it made perfect sense to send the strippers out with protection. If nothing else, the agency or club wouldn’t want to risk any damage to their investments.

 

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest, though? If you’re working while they’re working—“

 

“Their medical care comes out of my pay if something happens on my watch,” said Seifer, shaking his head slightly. “I make more money if I make sure they aren’t getting in trouble.”

 

“What constitutes trouble?” Quistis wondered, remembering the all-too-vivid bacchanal outside.

 

“Usually? Assault.”

 

“Does that happen that often?”

 

Seifer nodded, looking annoyed. “Everyone’s been punched at least once in this line of work. I’d even say more than ten times.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Hell if I know, I just make sure it doesn’t happen ever again.” He gestured at the door. “If you please?”

 

“Right.” Quistis took the chair away from the door, feeling foolish she’d overreacted in such a spectacular manner. “Ah… Please don’t be offended, but I don’t think I can stay around for the rest of the evening.”

 

“Aww, you’re not even going to try sticking anything down my shorts?” Seifer grinned when she leveled a glare at him. “Whatever. No skin off my nose. See you around.”

 

She looked at him closely. He really did seem fine. He really did seem happy. Quistis wasn’t sure why that bothered her so much, but at the same time, she certainly wasn’t going to figure out the answer when she kept seeing things that shocked her too much to think coherently. Maybe seeing someone she’d known since childhood take his clothes off and actually look good doing it was just that disconcerting, especially considering the fact that she liked that particular kind of look. Yes, that was probably it.

 

Seifer went out first, first without a flourish and then with a laugh as several amorous guests actually grabbed him and towed him into their little knot of adoration. Quistis skirted the side of the room and pulled her purse out of the pile that everybody else had tossed theirs into, keeping her head down so she wouldn’t see anything that might haunt her later. A not-unexpected chant of “take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” Started behind her and Quistis took that as her cue to escape very quickly indeed, making it almost to the elevators before a nearly hysterical cheer of glee made it quite clear that indeed, something had come off. She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks, trying to sort out what was pure embarrassment and what was her mind wondering just what ‘it’ looked like…

 

Fortunately there was a phone to check with messages on it, a somewhat rattled bride to comfort, and ultimately a late-night trek to an ice cream parlor that had the fanciest presentations Quistis had ever seen, which had Rinoa laughing amongst close friends and making good memories to round the night off. While she was talking to people who had also managed to skedaddle when the strippers had come in, Selphie sidled up to Quistis and predictably waited until Quistis had a mouth full of ice cream roll and fruit before asking, “Sooo… How was the show?”

 

Quistis took her time eating, sweating a little despite the cold in her mouth because she saw Selphie’s mind beginning to calculate the many possibilities. But it was no use jumping into this sort of conversation unprepared, so eventually Quistis swallowed and said, “Honestly, I didn’t see very much of it.”

 

_“There’s no need to bring Seifer into this. Besides, knowing Selphie, she would run back to confirm, there might be a confrontation, and that would be another kind of awkward I don’t want to face right now.”_

 

“I can’t believe you two left me, by the way,” said Quistis, which made Selphie wince.

 

“We’re sorry! We thought you were right behind us! And then… Well…”

 

“You thought I was staying because I enjoyed that or something?”

 

“We wouldn’t blame you if you did! It’s been a while since you’ve dated and all, so—“

 

“So are we getting breakfast before or after the spa in the morning?” Quistis interrupted, and relief flooded Selphie’s face as she eagerly began to rattle off the entire wedding day itinerary. Quistis didn’t know why Selphie was so happy to change the subject; it wasn’t _her_ dating life on display, yet again. Fortunately Selphie was very easy to distract from that particular subject. Deflection worked best with her and Zell, who had enough social graces to be uncomfortable about asking about her singleness. Irvine was blunt almost to the point of vulgarity, so Quistis would respond in kind to make him back off. Rinoa was just so _concerned_ that Quistis often had to spend at least twenty minutes reassuring her that she was fine. Squall, thank god, suggested absolutely nothing about her lack of love life, but even he would make comments every now and then, usually in the form of belatedly remembering out loud that Quistis was “coming/going by herself” “alone” or “single”. Like everyone didn’t already know! Ugh. Not for the first time Quistis considered the idea of just asking someone to be her wedding date just to keep her friends off her back for just one day…

 

…no.

 

No, it was a terrible idea.

 

It was an _aggressively_ terrible idea that would potentially ruin the entire wedding if anybody found out she had asked _Seifer_ to be her date.

 

…But then again, in addition to the wedding, there was also a reception…

 

…And shocking revelations were almost expected at receptions…

 

…and it wasn’t like Seifer’s mere presence could undo Rinoa and Squall’s marriage…

 

No. It was still a bad idea. If anyone recognized him at all, then the only thing people would talk about for Squall and Rinoa’s wedding day forevermore would be how a long-vanished criminal popped up on the arm of one of their best friends, and then she’d have to field questions too…

 

 _“But only if they recognized him. It’d certainly appeal to his sense of mischief. And as for me, well… I could indulge in just a little bit of mischief too. It would serve them all right for bugging me so much about a date for me to show up with one just for_ their _benefit! It might even make them leave me alone a while…”_

 

That settled her. A few months of her very dear friends keeping their nose out of her dating life was worth any price.

 

/\

 

(Beep)

  
“Hello. It’s Quistis. I got your number from your agency. How do you feel about weddings, Seifer? I could use a date to keep certain people off my back, but they can’t recognize you if you accept.”

 

/\

 

(Beep)

 

“So you want me to crash your best friends’ wedding in disguise? I like your style. Say when and where, and once the check clears, I’ll be there.”


End file.
